


W.O.L.F.E. And P.I.

by scipiocipher



Category: Wolf 359 (Radio)
Genre: Also I got a fact soo wrong jeez, Eiffel's really queer, F/F, F/M, Falling In Love, Homophobia tw for chapter 7, I just realized I have no clue how money works, If you read this before re read it I did a lot of revision, M/M, Near death tw for chapter 8, Other, Sharing a Bed, Slow Burn, Strangulation tw for chapter 2, autisim spec! Hilbert, but i can assure you it will have a happy end, harassment from customers tw for chapter 7, if you need something trigger tagged let me know, im reconfiguring some earlier stuff cuz this is ridiculous, it gets darker as it goes just fyi, like really really really queer, lots of blood and injury tw for chapter 9, medication in chapter 9, minklacedelka polyamory, plz it's important, trans Hilbert mother fuckers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-03-08
Updated: 2017-03-29
Packaged: 2018-05-25 15:07:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 9
Words: 18,473
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6199774
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scipiocipher/pseuds/scipiocipher
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>August 29, 2016, is the 6 month anniversary since I got the idea for this child of mine! I'm very excited! Cool reviews (and possible gifts of fan art) are appreciated!</p>
        </blockquote>





	1. Animals are better than people, but not by much

Footsteps lurched and creaked on every step of the stairs, a monstrous body clambering up them. The bedroom door handle turned haltingly, both as to not alert the sleeper and due to the monster’s unfamiliarity with how door knobs worked. The dragging, uneven footfalls thudded towards the bed, a shadow creeping across the sleeping form of a young human.   
Suddenly, the TV cut off, putting the living room in near complete darkness.  
“Hey!” Eiffel, who had been procrastinating sleep by watching TV, protested. His cat, Blessie, who had stepped on the power button of the remote like an ass, gave him an unimpressed stare that read, quite plainly, “Why do you do this to yourself?”  
“Because there’s nothing else on, Spot.” Eiffel muttered. Blessie found no humor in his Star Trek reference and his reasoning, seeing as how he could just sleep, and expressed that by taking the remote and dragging it down the hallway with them.  
“You ass.” Eiffel whispered as he peered down the dark hallway with slightly fearful eyes. Blessie gave him an unimpressed ear flick, and resumed to their vital mission of hiding the remote, at least until morning. It isn’t like he needs to be awake at this hour anyway. Blessie thought. It's 2 am.  
“Alright, Alright, I get the message, I need to sleep.” Eiffel rolled his eyes, squared his shoulders, and went down the dark hallway and into his bedroom.   
If you knows Douglas Eiffel, you would hardly be surprised by the contents of his bedroom. For example, if you didn’t know him, you find a small Eiffel Tower figurine with a sticky note that reads IMPOSTOR stuck on it rather unusual. If you know him, it’s still strange, but you kinda expect it. If you know Eiffel, you also know his dog likes to sleep near or in the doorway of his bedroom, despite the fact that she has a perfectly good bed for herself.  
Which is exactly why Eiffel tripped over her and fell flat on his face. “Damn, Fourier. Back at it again with tripping me in the middle of the night.” Fourier gave him the dog equivalent of a bitch face. “Neither one of you has a sense of humor, I see.” Both Fourier and Blessie gave him a look that read “Memes aren’t a sense of humor when that’s the only thing your humor is made of.”  
Eiffel sighed, debating wether it would be worth it to get up and get in the bed or if he should just sleep on the floor. That is, until Blessie gave him the McGonagall stare. Now, most cats aren’t the kind to give you a McGonagall stare, and you should feel blessed that they aren’t. If your cat does do the McGonagall stare, then you know the horror of having a non-shape shifting McGonagall look you in the eyes and force you to do the healthy/right thing™.  
“Fineeeeee” Eiffel groaned. He did not want to get up off the floor, so he took his own good sweet time about it, and flopped face down onto the bed theatrically.  
(He really should have gone to bed earlier honestly. After all, this is just the calm before the storm. Tomorrow is going to be hell for our sweet summer child. So sleep Eiffel, because I can insure you’ll need it.)


	2. Chapter 2

If you think being a radio engineer is always pretty easy as long as you know what you’re doing, you’re dead wrong. Eiffel’s job as a radio engineer for the only station in the town of Wolfe (also called Nowhere, Nowhere, by residents) isn’t as bad as a Night Vale intern’s, but it was still rather dangerous to do.  
Most radio stations are decently funded and as such usually have somewhat decent equipment. The town of Wolfe is populated by the following: broke people who couldn’t get away, people trying to get away from something, and people someone else wanted to be forgotten. It wasn’t exactly a great place to get funding, and the radio station had been shut down in the 1940’s. For some reason, the Mayor decided to open it again a few months ago, about the time Eiffel had moved there, And most of the equipment hadn’t been replaced yet. So where a normal radio engineer has a job with somewhat decent equipment that is up to date, and paid about $80,819 annually, our favorite nerd has a job with equipment that was either donated or from the 40’s, and paid about $77,625. Still a good amount of money, and definitely enough to live off of (so long as no sudden things came up in quick succession, like a broken leg and needing to buy a new car at the same time), but not exactly a safe job.  
Which is exactly why he stumbled into the only open pizza place in town at 11 pm with bandages on his fingers and the remnants of electric discharge on his face and feeling dead inside.  
“Whadda ya want?” The bored woman behind the counter groused. Eiffel almost wanted to back the fuck out of the place out of fear, but he wasn’t cooking. Not after the day he’d had.  
“A Hawaiian pizza, extra pineapple and anchovies.” He requested, very much wanting to get out of here as fast as possible.  
The woman raised an eyebrow and hopped over the counter. Eiffel backed up, alarmed. She grabbed his shoulder, her grip like a vise. “Come with me.”  
“Hey, I don't want any trouble, if you can't make that, it's okay!” Eiffel explained, panicked. She kept that steel grip on his shoulder, pushing open a door that read “Employees Only” in capital letters. She kept walking for a time through the room, and got to another door, this one with a keypad and a thumbprint scanner. She punched a key number in a pad by the door. “We can talk this through!” She scanned her thumb and jerked him through the door irritably. “Oh my god, at least I didn't order a none pizza with left beef!”  
The woman rolled her eyes. “Why me.” She muttered under her breath. “Just. Just why.” She kept leading him through a dark hallway, the lights flickering in some sections, completely broken in others, and occasionally a working one, her grip never loosening. It twisted and wound around itself- Eiffel wouldn’t be surprised to find out they had broken the laws of gravity or something been walking upside down at one point. Finally, after what felt like hours, she pushed opened a door and dragged him down a long set of stairs.  
She pushed open one last door and Eiffel, having gotten used to the low lighting, was temporarily blinded by the sudden flood of fluorescent brightness. “Look,” he said, shielding his eyes, “I really have no idea what's going on!”  
She looked at him with the expression of someone who was 100% done. “You really don’t?  
“Yes! That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you!”  
A door on the other side of the room creaked open. “What is going on.” A man demanded. His blue eyes flashed. His accent indicated eastern european origins. “I am trying to working.”  
“Y-you mean work.” A disembodied female voice corrected. “Yo-ou are t-trying to-o work, Hilbert.”  
Hilbert flushed deeply and fiddled with the ends of his black hair. “Well? What’s going on, Lovelace? And who is that?” He asked, noticing Eiffel for the first time.  
“A slight mistake. By the way, could you fire up the mind wiper for me?”  
Both Hilbert and Eiffel started speaking at the same time.  
“Mindwipe?!?”  
“Absolutely not!”  
Ignoring the obvious fear in Eiffel’s voice, Lovelace addressed Hilbert again. “What else do you suggest? Murder? ‘Cause you’re good at that.” There was a malicious look in her eye as she said that.  
Hilbert turned heel, dislodging his ponytail from where it rested on his shoulder, and ran into the door he had come out of.  
“Lovelace!” Another woman scolded. “Do you want him to relapse?”  
“Oh, I’m sorry Minkowski, I didn’t realize that my suggestion would affect him that much!” Lovelace replied with bitter sarcasm, releasing Eiffel’s shoulder to gesticulate as she spoke.  
Eiffel felt conflicted. No one was paying him any attention at the moment, so he could get away (in theory). But on the other hand, he felt a moral obligation to check on this Hilbert guy. “Oh, fuck it.” He sighed, and snuck over to the door as the two women continued to argue.  
\------------------------------------------------  
Hilbert was not the kind to cry easily. Not to say he didn’t express emotion- He could begin to scream mid sentence, he could begin to smile when he had been panicking only seconds ago, but he did not cry. And yet, he was crying now. He wiped his eyes roughly, but the tears still flowed. It wasn’t like he had wanted to kill them! He hadn’t! They were his friends! He wasn’t even fully in control of his own body at the time!  
The door creaked open and he froze.  
“Hey, uh, Hilbert, right? Do you need to talk to someone?” The “slight mistake” asked. Hilbert relaxed a bit. It wasn’t Lovelace, who was more inclined to the screaming and anger towards him- i.e. why didn’t he fight back?- or Minkowski, who wasn’t mad about it, but wasn’t gentle either and would make him talk about it.  
“No.” Hilbert replied gruffly. It sounded even more of a lie than usual.  
The door closed. “You don't sound like it.”  
“Aren’t you supp-hic-osed to not be here?” Hilbert hiccuped. His eyes widened. Please, for the love of science, no. “Hic-” he slapped his hands over his mouth, hiccuping muffled just barely.  
A hand settled on his shoulder. “To answer your question, yes. But, well, I kinda wanted to see if you were okay.” He said awkwardly. Hilbert was starting to think he’d prefer Minkowski to this.  
Hilbert turned to tell him that he didn’t need to do that, that he shouldn’t have done that, hiccups be damned, but halted when he saw his eyes. Heterochromatic, just like his. Green and an inner circle of gold, standing out boldly against his rich bronze skin like a declaration, it was a wonder he hadn't noticed earlier. Caught off guard, he forgot how to English.  
“что траха-hic-ющийся.” Hilbert muttered.  
Ironically, the sight of Hilbert up close also made Eiffel forget how to English. “Lo que el puto infierno.” Eiffel muttered as he got a close look at Hilbert’s eyes.  
Indigo blue, except for the right half of the left one, which was a dark, warm brown. Sectoral heterochromia, a close friend of his own central heterochromia.  
Eiffel did what he usually did in situations like this. Which is laugh. Really awkwardly.  
This was a bad idea.  
Actually, there probably aren't words for how bad of idea this was, and if it exists, it's probably a German one.  
(Alright, if you've ever been considered different by the other kids in school, you probably know about the kind of torment Hilbert went through, having heterochromia and all, as well as other things, but those were less visible. If you weren't, count yourself lucky. If you were the kid who did the tormenting, and you aren't sorry, go burn in hell. So, given the “Incident” laughing, especially after taking note of one of his many sources of torment, even more so after he was feeling some very strong negative emotions was a really bad idea ™.)  
Hilbert stumbled and Eiffel grabbed his arms to keep him from falling.  
“Hey, you alr-” Eiffel began, only to find a pair of elegant, pale hands wrap around his throat.  
He was starting to realize that he had done something bad™.  
He was also learning what being strangled felt like.  
Hilbert looked up at him, but not quite seeing, his eyes cold and flat, mumbling under his breath, slowly raising his voice until Eiffel was able to make out “I have to, I'm sorry, I have to, I'm so fucking sorry, I don’t know how to stop it…”  
He wasn't really able to process this very well, unfortunately. He could however, tell that something was very wrong and that this was not the same person he had been talking to earlier. Or at least, if it was, they were likely drugged.  
“H-Hilbert.” He choked out, trying to keep his voice calm, like one did when soothing a frightened animal.“S-st-top. Ple-eas-se.” Hilbert's eyes began to focus, looking less doll-like and glassy by the second. “S-snap-p out-t of it-t. T-this-s is-sn’t-t right-t.”  
About 15 seconds later, Hilbert was able to let go of his throat, looking at his hands in horror and disgust. He backed away until he hit the wall, and then slid to the floor. Eiffel leaned on the counters nearby to make sure he didn't fall.  
About the same time Eiffel got his breath back, Lovelace and the woman from earlier (what was her name? Minkowski?) barged in, realizing he had disappeared and not left. It didn't take them long to figure out what had happened.  
Minkowski grabbed him by the arm, her hand almost matching the mahogany color of his jacket. “How did you do it?  
“Do what?” Eiffel tried to move his arm from her grip, but it seemed that everyone one here didn't let go of things unless they wanted to.  
“Make him come out of it.” Minkowski clarified. “How did you make him be him.”  
“I just asked him to stop.”  
“You what?” Minkowski looked extremely confused.  
“I asked him to stop.” Eiffel was all but surrounded by scary people right now , so he figured he should tell the truth and nothing but that. “Like when your pet loses its shit during a thunderstorm? You know, calmly?”  
Minkowski and Lovelace looked at each other, coming to the beginning of an agreement. Lovelace muttered “okay, maybe we don't need the mind wiper after all…”  
Minkowski looked at him, analyzing his appearance in a way that made him feel uncomfortable. “He's decently fit…”  
“Wait, what?” Eiffel was confused.  
“Mr.- wait, what's your name?” Minkowski asked.  
“Douglas Eiffel.”  
“Mr. Eiffel, what are your skills?”  
“Skills?” Eiffel scoffed deprecatingly.  
Minkowski sighed. “What is your employment?”  
“Radio engineer.”  
Lovelace and Minkowski went and started mumbling in a corner. Eiffel not-so-discreetly snuck over to Hilbert, who was muttering in hushed tones to himself, in a language Eiffel didn't know, the same language as before probably.  
“Y-you shou-uld pr-robably-y move h-him.” The disembodied voice from earlier advised. “H-he appear-rs to be in a s-shocked s-state, and it wou-uld be best if h-he went somewh-here quieter.”  
“Thanks, um-”  
“H-hera.”  
“Thank you, Hera.”  
“Thank you, Hera.”  
Eiffel knelt next to Hilbert, who was still muttering to himself. “I'm going to try to move you, ok? Don't freak, it'll just be to the med-bay on the other side of the room.” He waited for a reply. He got none. Eiffel slid an arm under Hilbert’s legs, and another behind his back. He carried him over to the med-bay, briefly pausing to bump the door open with his hip.  
He gingerly laid Hilbert down on a cot, trying not to jar him by, say, dropping him. I guess the universe had had its fun for the day, because he didn't. Eiffel backed out of the room, closing the door as he went. Hilbert turned on his side and closed his eyes.  
Minkowski turned around, her startling red hair whipping around with her, from where she had been conversing with Lovelace the second he had returned to the room. “Eiffel.” He stood straight and still as Minkowski addressed him. “What do you think about working here?”  
“Do I have much of a choice?” He sighed.  
“No.” Lovelace answered. “Unless you want to get nice and cosy with the mind wiper, that's about it.”  
“I guess I'll take the ‘working here’ option then.”

 

AN: Code Glossary:  
Hawaiian pizza, extra pineapple and anchovies- entry pass/new recruit  
none pizza with left beef- good luck. We literally don't know what to do with this one, so you get them.  
Also, this chapter was partially brought to you by Bird, whose tumblr is someone-help-doug-eiffel, due to helping me kick my writer's block’s ass.

 

I’ve only just started learning russian so I used a translator. (at least it wasn’t google) I did however, use google translate for spanish, so I still feel shame.  
что трахающийся - what the fuck  
lo que el puto infierno-what the fucking hell  
Anyway, sectoral and central heterochromia are both internal forms of heterochromia, which is where someone’s eyes are two different colors. With central heterochromia, both eyes have a ring of one color around the iris, which is surrounded by a second color. With sectoral heterochromia, one section of one eye is a different color.


	3. Chapter 3

Emer Finnin was not insane. She just thought outside of box, a rare commodity in this world (in her mind). So when she said she saw aliens, she had most definitely seen aliens and wasn’t going to dismiss them as her imagination. Which made the incredulous tone of voice this woman was using with her aggravating.  
“You saw aliens.”  
“That’s what I told you, yes.” Emer said irritably  
“Please hold.”  
Great. Emer thought. Now she’s probably calling the mental hospital. The line clicked, and Emer was about to drop the phone back into it’s cradle, when another voice crackled in.  
“You saw aliens?”  
Emer sighed the long suffering sigh of someone who wanted to give up, but refused to. “Yes, at 8:00pm last night.”   
\------------------------  
3 hours and 19 transfers later, she was about to rip the landline out of the wall and through it out of a window she was sitting next to, right into her sister’s peonies.  
“Please hold for a moment.” Why do they play the most irritating music when they put you on hold. She thought. It's repetitive, boring, and unimaginative.  
\------------------------------------------------------  
Hilbert was leaning through his window, watering his petunias, and was about to move on to his peppermint plants inside, when his landlady yelled that there was a call for him.  
“Hello?” he asked when he got to the only non cell phone in the place.   
“Hey, uh, I know it’s your day off and all but Minkowski- I mean, Minkovski- wants you in, and why do you have your landlady’s number listed on your file as the only way to contact you?”  
Ignoring the last bit, Hilbert asked “She wants me in? Why?”  
“Something about mission evaluation.” A swallow flitted across his vision, pecking at the bird feeder Maria had convinced the landlady to set up.   
“I’ll be there in one moment.” Hilbert said distractedly. Are swallows even in this area this time of year? He wondered.  
\--------------------------------  
Hilbert slid into his chair at the discussion table. “What is so special that I was needed?” He asked, attempting to be polite.   
“We got a call from a young woman who saw aliens.” Minkowski explained, writing down something on a notepad.  
“No disrespect, Commander, but we get calls like that every day, even if most don’t get directly to us.” Hilbert replied, slightly incredulous. “It’s probably nothing.”  
“Exactly.” Minkowski said.  
“Exactly?”  
“Yes.”  
Hilbert turned and looked at Their resident psychologist, Dominik Koudelka, and asked “Has she lost it or am I missing something here?”  
“No, she hasn’t.” Dominik muttered.  
“Look.” She continued, “we have a new recruit. Think of it as a dry run. We give him the basics, he learns what he's supposed to do, all without any actual risk.”  
“Who’s gonna lie to him?” Lovelace asked.  
“It won’t be lying. It’ll be ... stretching the truth.” Minkowski amended.  
“Ok, who’s gonna “stretch the truth”?” Lovelace cooed sarcastically.  
“We all will.”  
\--------------------------------  
Eiffel sat down 15 minutes later, completely oblivious to any kind of deception, harmless or not. No one spoke. It was bizarrely tense.  
Finally, Minkowski broke the silence. “Okay, so,” she began awkwardly, “We got a call from someone on Northwest Starrett Hill Street, and we think this is a case, but nothing major, so this is a perfect opportunity to see how well you work with the rest of us as a team and handle a mission.”  
“Um, Commander Minkowski?” Eiffel asked hesitantly.  
“Yes Eiffel?”  
“What-exactly- do we do? I get we work for some kind of agency but other than that I know nothing.”  
Everyone else looked at each other, accusingly, as if to say, ‘it’s been two weeks why didn’t you tell him?’  
“Essentially, we look for aliens.” Minkowski answered finally.  
\----------------------------------------------------------------  
Eiffel hadn't gotten much by way of sleep that night. He’d had a lot of information to soak in, after all. Well, just that one thing, but still. Aliens. Geez, talk about X-Files.  
...What kind of aliens? Like, MIB aliens? Like, slimy, gross aliens?  
Woah, brain. Not the kinda subject to ponder during breakfast. Suddenly his cereal didn’t look so great, eating wise. Eiffel shuddered, put the bowl in the fridge, and went to grab some pants for work. Fourier was extremely against him going however, and expressed this by wrestling with Eiffel over his pants for a half hour. Then Blessie stole his shoes, and it took him 15 minutes to find them. They were in the crawlspace under the sink, and he was only barely able to squeeze down there.  
As he finally got to walking out the door, Fourier tried to drag him away by his pants leg in a last ditch attempt to stop him, but failed.  
“Look, I’ll be home soon, ok? And I’ll be exactly the same, annoying man that won’t let you eat his bacon.” Eiffel promised. Fourier whimpered in response, disbelieving his reassurance.  
Eiffel quietly slid into the briefing room, hoping no one would notice he was late. Hilbert looked him in the eyes for awhile as he passed, not breaking until he slid into his seat, at which point he looked away without any other sign of acknowledgement, or of his thoughts. For a few minutes everyone just sat there in silence.  
Minkowski stood, bringing the briefing to an official beginning. “As you know, we received a call last night involving repeated alien activity.” Everyone relaxed in their seats. Minkowski could scare the hell out of them sometimes, but she also had a to the point-ness about her that soothed their nerves at briefings. “This probably won't even be an actual major case, but given our new recruit, it's a perfect opportunity to go through the motions.”  
Eiffel absent mindedly sketched as she talked. Faces, smiles, hands- aimlessly floating in the pages. Mr. Koudelka nudged his shoulder quietly, unsure if he was listening.  
“Again, this is probably nothing major, so there is no need to panic.” Minkowski reiterated, glaring at Hilbert and Lovelace, who both shifted uncomfortably in their seats under her glare.  
“...she startled me.” Hilbert muttered.  
“I startled you.” Lovelace looked at him, completely deadpan. “I startled you, mr. Cool and collected.”  
“Just because I act calm does not mean am calm.” Hilbert retorted.  
“I stand by my theory that you planned it all.” Lovelace muttered crankily.  
“How- details, please- could I have planned on you sneaking up on me and flailed convincingly, all while making sure to knock over one sample of the various substances found that just so happened to be both poison and acid when it was not tested?” Hilbert demanded.  
“Maybe you have some sort of affinity for deadly things, I don't know, but I highly doubt it was an accident.” Lovelace's face scrunched up a little as she leaned towards Hilbert across the conference table. Hilbert's hands twitched in front of him, almost like he was fighting the urge to poke her on the nose and push her back into her seat, away from him, despite the fact that she would probably bite his finger off if he did.  
“Lovelace, please.” Minkowski rubbed her temples.  
“Renee.” Lovelace pleaded.  
“Don't you ‘Renee’ me.”  
\------------------------------  
Eiffel drummed his fingers on the door handle. “This feels like a field trip.” He muttered. It was autumn and the bright colors racing by him made him feel dizzy.  
“Kind of is.” Hilbert agreed, scribbling something down in one of his many notebooks.  
“I should have listened to my dog.” Eiffel decided.  
Hilbert put his pen down and looked up from his writing to stare blankly at Eiffel.  
“I don't have good luck on field trips, or really anything similar.” He explained. Hilbert raised an eyebrow at him, but went back to writing after a few seconds.  
Eiffel leaned closer. “Is that a glitter gel pen?” Hilbert stopped writing immediately. He could feel his face heating up with shame. Stop that, stop that, stop that, you have no reason to be ashamed of something so small… he mentally berated himself.  
“Hey, you ok?” Eiffel gently put a hand on his wrist, bringing him back to reality.  
“I'm fine.” Hilbert mumbled. “Just- just an old habit I've been trying to break.”  
“Ok.” Eiffel removed his hand from Hilbert's wrist, figuring he'd probably want to get back to writing. After a beat, Hilbert went back to writing.  
Eiffel stared at him a little. He has some pretty serious dark circles under his eyes, Eiffel noted. A graying hair caught the light and shone against his skin for a moment. How old is he? Eiffel wondered. Initially I thought he was maybe late thirties, mid forties, but how can I be sure?  
It pretty much went like that for the rest of the car ride. Lovelace ignored everyone by listening to music the whole time, and Minkowski drove whilst passive aggressively cussing out other drivers, Mr.Koudelka drove his own car, and Eiffel and Hilbert sat in comfortable, yet slightly awkward silence.  
\----------------------------  
Eiffel bounced his leg up and down.  
“Don't you know how to sit still?” Hilbert asked, more amused than irritated.  
“Not really.” Eiffel admitted. Dominik Koudelka, Minkowski and Lovelace were inside, asking the witness- a young woman named Emer- about details, and determining how stable her mental health was.  
“You play chess?” Hilbert asked.  
“Yeah, but it's been awhile…” Eiffel trailed off. “Wait, why do you wanna know? Do you have a travel chess set or something?”  
“Maybe.”  
“Nerrrrrrrrd”  
Hilbert took the set out of his bag. “Are you going to play or no?”  
“Sure, it beats slowly liquefying my sanity waiting for them to get done.”  
\----------------------------  
Eiffel sank deeper into his chair. “Just- what- how?”  
Hilbert grinned. “Practice.”  
“More like tychokinesis.” Eiffel mumbled crankily.  
“You can believe that if you like, but it appears to me that you're out of practice.” Hilbert's grin didn't waver on his face. “I believe that's four for me, and zero for you.”  
“You're diabolical.” Eiffel muttered. “I must end your reign of terror.”  
“Oh really?” Hilbert batted his eyelashes at Eiffel. “And pray tell, how you think you're going to do that?”  
“You know what's more fun than playing chess, Doc?” Eiffel asked.  
“What?”  
“Playing novel chess.”  
“What's that?”  
“It's like chess, but you can make up stories as you play. For instance, while we were talking, all my pawns found God and became bishops.” Eiffel smiled and captured one of Hilbert's knights.  
“Wait-” Hilbert started.  
“Novel chess, Hilbert.” Eiffel said gleefully.  
A beat.  
“Fine Eiffel.” Hilbert said, his eyes gleaming with challenge. “You want to play novel chess? Let's play novel chess.”  
\----------------------------  
Eiffel put his last pawn down. “Checkmate.” Hilbert steepled his pointer fingers and tapped them against his lips.  
“I suppose this would be a bad time to mention that my pieces overthrew the king. Have a nice time with our puppet monarch in your dungeons.”  
Eiffel stared at the board. And stared. After a few minutes, he covered his face with his hands.  
“You alright?” Hilbert asked, concern evident in his voice. Eiffel put his hands down. A near manic grin stretched over his face. Hilbert leaned back, startled.  
“Eiffel, Hilbert, we need to comb the area… What's going on?” Minkowski looked equal parts confused and concerned.  
Eiffel turned to her. “Insanity. Pure, unadulterated insanity.”  
Minkowski stepped back. “Okaaaay then. Insanity time is over, we need to comb the area for strange substances, materials, and technology.”  
Hilbert stretched and sighed. “How are we splitting sections?”  
“Quadrants, numbered clockwise, 5 miles radius overall.” Minkowski squinted at Hilbert.  
“What?” Hilbert asked.  
“Nothing.”  
\----------------------------  
“It was really weird Lovelace.” Minkowski repeated. “Usually there's at least some element of not all here to him, but he looked-”  
“Like a normal human being?”  
“Haha, very funny.” For a few minutes they continued walking, pushing branches out of each other's faces and keeping an eye out for strange substances, materials, and technology. “I'm serious Lovelace. He looked almost happy- well, except for the bit where Eiffel looked like he'd lost his mind.”  
“Are you sure he didn't? Or if he ever had it?” Minkowski snorted at that.  
Suddenly, Hilbert crackled through the radio. “Minkowski, I can't get through to Eiffel!”  
“Speak of the devil.” Lovelace muttered.  
Minkowski unclipped her radio from her belt. “What do you mean, you can't get through to Eiffel?”  
“We were talking through the comms system to pass the time and it suddenly went static! I tried to see if it was just a bad patch, but I can't get him.” Hilbert sounded frantic, nearly hyperventilating.  
“Doctor, listen to me.” Minkowski's voice was level and betrayed no panic or emotion.  
“O-okay.”  
“Sit down and put your head down for a bit. Deep breaths for a few minutes. When you aren't so panicky, get back to the car.” She ordered.  
“But-” Hilbert started.  
“I'm your commander, and you will do as I say.” She said with an air of finality that no one should challenge.  
“Yes, sir.” A click signified that he'd gone off the line.  
Now that he was gone, Minkowski began to panic.  
“Oh my god, we’re going to die.” She muttered.  
“Yep.” Lovelace muttered, her face paler than its usual brown red cinnabar tone. “Well- we could-”  
“Call command for help?” Minkowski snapped.  
“It could work. They might help us.” Even Lovelace knew she was grasping at straws. Especially she knew that. After all, their reaction to her crew being murdered by each other, while the only survivor clearly needed help was to demote her, suggest yoga to him, and send two people and a glitchy AI to replace people she’d been friends with for years.  
“Yeah, sure. And we'll just tell command ‘hey, we recruited someone without your authorization, and he just got kidnapped by aliens cuz we didn’t take a call seriosly and under prepared’. Nothing could possibly go wrong.” Minkowski ranted.  
Lovelace hugged Minkowski close to her chest.   
“Hey. We're going to figure this out. Hopefully.” She tried to soothe.  
“I don't even believe in aliens.” Minkowski mumbled to the crook of Lovelace's neck.  
“Well, you better start. Cuz it looks like they want you to believe.”   
AN: Remember; nothing is done without reason. Especially in this fic. There. Is. Symbolism. EVERYWHERE.


	4. Chapter 4

"Alright." Minkowski's voice shook a little, barely audible. "Alright." she said again, clearer this time. "The important thing here is to not panic." She turned to Dominik Koudelka. "Didn't you say once that you have experience with volunteer Search and Rescue?'  
"I did." Dominik's cognac eyes darted around apprehensively.  
"Any tips?"  
He straightened. "Keep your radios on at all times. Don't split up from your partner. Don't mess with stairs, if you see any."  
"Stairs?" Hilbert looked at him in confusion. His hands sat uncharacteristically motionless in his lap, occasionally twitching like a dying bird’s wings. "We are several miles from anything, why the hell would we see stairs?" he looked frazzled and tired, which was startling, as his face never really shifted from his neutral expression.  
"Just don't touch them, look at them, nothing, or we probably won't ever find him." Hilbert wilted even more, his hands stilling completely, everyone else looking pale and worried as well.  
"Hilbert, Lovelace, you two go together." Minkowski commanded. They both protested, and she held up a hand. "Who's in charge?"  
"...You are." Lovelace muttered.  
"Not us."  
"That's right." Minkowski leaned forward, hands on her hips. "So you two are going to cooperate, and you are not going to complain. Are we clear?"  
"Yes Commander." Hilbert stood, sliding off the hood of the car.  
"Lovelace?"  
"fine." Lovelace gave in begrudgingly.  
\-----------------------------------------------------  
“So.” Lovelace started, crickets punctuating her beginning of an attempt at conversation. “You and Eiffel are friends?” Silence from Hilbert. “Close friends?”  
“Are we not supposed to be looking for him instead of talking?” Hilbert snapped.  
“What, are you afraid to open up or something?” Lovelace asked incredulously, one her eyebrows going down while the other went up, like a child's seesaw.  
“Last I checked, you and I are not on good terms, so yes.” Hilbert's tone was biting, and a tad desperate. His hands shook, making the beam from his flashlight bounce around, randomly lighting up parts of the forest.  
Suddenly, Lovelace stopped.  
“What?” Hilbert's voice cracked a little. Lovelace pointed her flashlight in front of her wordlessly.  
Stairs.  
A set of spotless, white carpeted stairs in the middle of the forest.  
Hilbert took a step back, his face managing to get paler than it already was.  
Lovelace took a step forward.  
“Can you hear that?” Lovelace muttered.  
“Hear what?”  
“Exactly. There should be noise. But there isn't.” Lovelace sounded dazed.  
She took another step forwards. Her flashlight dropped from her hand, which was suddenly slack.  
Hilbert grabbed her arm.  
She took another step forward.  
Hilbert pinched her arm.  
"OW!" She yelped. "What the fucking hell, Hilbert?"  
"You were acting... hokey." His face was ghastly looking in the light of her fallen flashlight. "I think we should leave this part of the woods alone."  
"Hokey?" Lovelace snorted as she picked up her light.  
"Oh, fight me."  
"That word doesn't even make sense in this context."  
"Fight me Lovelace. Pick time and place that is not here and now, and fight me."  
They continued on in silence.  
A few minutes later, Lovelace quietly whispered, “Hokey.”  
“Lovelace.”  
“Hokey.” A beat. “Hokey.”  
“Lovelace.”  
“HokEY.”  
“Lovelace, I will murder you and carve ‘hokey’ into your headstone.” He whispered.  
Lovelace snickered.  
\-------------------------------------------  
Lovelace whistled a rather jaunty tune, easily getting annoyed glares from Hilbert who desperately wished he could shove cotton in his ears. He looked over his shoulder every once in awhile, his eyes wider than usual.  
“Are you afraid of the woods?” She suddenly asked, breaking the silence.  
“No.”  
“Are you sure, you've been-”  
“Am afraid of what is in them.” Hilbert interrupted.  
“Bugs?” Lovelace suggested.  
“What- no, did you not grow up with stories about witches and wolves and imps?”  
“Wolves, maybe. Everything else you just said, nah.”  
“...what.”  
“I didn't-”  
“No, understood what you said, just confused.” Hilbert looked at her, head tilted slightly.  
“What's there to be confused about?”  
“Did your parents not tell you stories to keep you out of the forest?”  
“Brooklyn isn't big on forests.”  
“Oh.”  
They trudged onwards, the lack of conversation 10 times as awkward as it was before. They’d about reached the edge of their section when they saw him.  
“Is that-?”  
“Yes.” Hilbert got to Eiffel first, sliding down the bank to his unconscious body. He pulled off his jacket and wrapped it around Eiffel's shivering body, mumbling something about how it was 18 degrees Celsius outside and that extraterrestrials should take human limitations into account.  
He lifted up Eiffel's torso into his lap, feeling along the column of his throat to gage his pulse.  
“Why don't you check his pulse in his wrist?” Lovelace asked as she slid down to them.  
“I am bad at finding pulses.” Hilbert muttered. “Harder to find pulse in wrist.” His brow furrowed in confusion.  
“What?” Lovelace asked.  
“His pulse is fast.”  
“Is that a bad thing?”  
“No- well maybe, but mostly a weird thing. Normally your pulse is only fast after physical activity, but his is fast without any other sign of that.” He noted, referring to Eiffel's steady breathing and lack of red faced exertion.  
Lovelace squinted at Eiffel. “Is it just me or is he glowing?”  
“Glowing?” They both jumped when Minkowski's voice crackled through the radio.  
“I-I think so?” Hilbert squinted at Eiffel as well, frowning slightly. “What the hell?”  
“Ok, you know what, you can figure out the weird medical shit later, let's leave.” Lovelace pulled her jacket tighter around herself.  
“Can not argue with that.” Hilbert agreed. “How do we get him out with us?”  
“I'll carry him.”  
\-----------------------------------------------------------  
Eiffel looked around him in confusion. “What happened?” He slurred tiredly.  
“Shit happened. And you are lucky that the aliens didn't take your underwear like rest of your clothing.” Hilbert handed him a bottle of water.  
“Thanks. Aliens?”  
“Turns out that Emer Finnin is not insane.” Minkowski explained without really explaining anything.  
“So… She really did see aliens?”  
“Apparently.” She muttered.  
“And said aliens abducted me.”  
“Presumably.” Hilbert answered this time. He kept turning to look at Eiffel worriedly, like he would disappear.  
“I'm not gonna explode or anything right?” Eiffel asked, startled.  
Hilbert smiled. “Highly unlikely.”


	5. Chapter 5

Dominik Koudelka sighed and leaned against the front counter, triple chocolate chip frappe in hand. Just a nice, normal, day.  
His earpiece crackled loudly, making him jump and almost spill his coffee.  
As normal as it got around here, anyway.  
From what he could tell, Renee and Isabel were yelling about something, and Alexander was sleeping through it. Nothing unusual.  
The door chimed, and he turned to see Doug walk through the door, cheerful, but clearly sleep deprived. He'd been like that a lot lately. Maybe he should have a talk with him to make sure he's alright.  
The faint glow that accompanied him for the past few weeks still clung to him, which had made Alexander lie down, whispering "why? how?" over and over, much to Hera, Isabel, and Doug’s amusement.  
Speaking of Hera, the AI had been rather quiet the past few months. Maybe there was a new bug in her coding and she was trying to work it out. Or maybe she'd found a way to transmit her consciousness- no. Not possible. The software to do that would be what, at least 12 years ahead of it's time? Or something along those lines?  
Renée stormed through the headquarters door, dragging Alexander behind her with slight difficulty. “Get out of the lab and get some sleep for once, dammit.” She commanded.  
Alexander looked pretty damn dead on his feet, which was, sadly, rather normal for him. He glared at Renée, and she stood in front of the door, arms crossed. Alexander sat down in a chair stubbornly, folding his arms.  
Doug looked uncomfortable. After awhile, he decided to sit with Alexander and the two began to talk. A small half smile began to appear on Hilbert’s face, and a little more life showed in his eyes. Eiffel said something, and he laughed a little.  
Renée relaxed against the door.  
“I give it three months.” He said casually.  
“What?” Renée looked at him, confused.  
“Those two.” He gestured over to Alexander and Doug. “Three months, tops, until one of them asks the other out, or at least seriously considers it.”  
Renée looked over at them, cocking an eyebrow. “That so?” Her voice was casual, monotone.  
He knew that look and tone. She was about to make a bet.  
“I say Hilbert does it.” She said just as he said:  
“My money's on Eiffel.”  
“How much?”  
“15.” he offered.  
“Make it 20 and add the loser taking night shifts for two weeks and it's a deal.” she responded after a few seconds of thought.  
“Done.” They shook on it. Then they looked at each other and burst into laughter. Doug and Alexander looked over, confused, which only made them laugh harder.  
Dominik winced at the sudden crackle on his comms. “God dammit…” He muttered. Renée gave him a funny look. “Does anyone realize how startling that is?” He asked her. She shrugged. Silence from whoever was using the channel. “Who's using this damn channel…” He wondered aloud.  
“That w-would be me, Dominik."  
\---------------  
Socially inept.  
The words had been ringing in Hilbert's head since this morning, when Minkowski and Lovelace had been yelling at each other.  
They had been discussing him, thinking he was asleep, but it wasn't hard to fake that.  
Socially inept.  
Yes. He was socially inept, wasn't he? He thought as he walked to the afternoon meeting.  
Always thinking something 'rude', and nothing saying 'that's wrong, don't say it.' in his head. He had learned how to keep himself from saying things, but it wasn't foolproof. And yet, he was nitpicked for any tiny mistake.  
What was it like, not dealing with that? For the nitpicking to be justified. To not carefully vet your sentences in casual conversation so that you didn't upset someone.  
Sometimes he wished he was at work 24/7 so he wouldn't have to.  
He opened the door, silently walking over the common area. Clean, everything in place, easy to navigate. Not like him in any social situation.  
Maybe his feelings on the matter were irrelevant, or even ‘rude’, but it was his head, his thoughts, so fuck it. It was not like anyone could hear him.  
Unless mind readers turn out to be a thing too, then he was screwed.  
He was already in a screwed situation anyway, seeing as how Hera had figured out how to transmit her consciousness virtually everywhere. It had taken Minkowski a half an hour to decide wether back down and let go to this meeting to discuss what to do about it.  
He had nothing against her at all (other than sometimes wondering if she was a machine or a person,which usually just left him with a headache), but that scared him. Not that she had worked out how to do it, that was interesting and fairly impressive, but the fact that that meant she was literally everywhere she could get a radio signal now terrified him.  
He opened the meeting room door and took his place. Everyone was there, except Eiffel. He wasn't late, but he was behind Hilbert.  
He sat down, pushing the ringing words away, knowing full well that they would bounce back to the front of his mind later. He was good with that. He needed to pay attention to this meeting right now.  
Eiffel ran in, catching Hilbert's eye. He stared, like he always did. Eiffel was strange, and even though it had been almost a month, he couldn't figure why he was any different from anyone else. That glow still shone faintly around him. It still frustrated him. He didn't know a damn thing about it, and there wasn't anything on it… Wait Minkowski stood up, switch focus.  
“As you all probably have heard, the AI that command has put at our disposal, Hera, has made some...upgrades to herself.” Minkowski said, her voice full of admiration and fear.  
That's putting it lightly, he thought. She jumped ahead of all other current technology that we know of by a decade.(Not surprising, She is smarter than just about any human, but definitely alarming that there wasn't a code put in place to prevent that, given the controversy around AI.)  
“As such, there are going to be adjustments to regular protocol.” (Oh no.) “From now on, when you're working, comms are on at all times. Eiffel, that means more work for you.” Eiffel swore just barely under his breath. “Don't care, it has to be done.”  
Most of the rest of the meeting passed with a blur of words that he couldn't quite remember- new lab protocols, updating Hera’s coding, installing transmitters- only one of those concerned him, and he had taken notes on all of them.  
He got up from the meeting, walking over to his lab quietly, needing to jot down the new protocol in a lab journal and make some of the necessary adjustments before he went home.  
His mind wandered as he copied from his notes into the yellow spiral ring notebook he kept in the drawer next to the door. His neighbor, Maria, would probably try to talk him to going out tonight like she always did, and he'd have to scramble for an excuse. He couldn't use his plants this time, he'd watered them when Minkowski had ordered bed rest out of him earlier today.  
He wondered if there was an anniversary he was forgetting that he could use, or a holiday, that would work.  
He was done copying his notes, now he had to-  
“Go home, you jackass.”  
He sighed. “Lovelace.”  
She closed the door behind her. “The last time you slept for more than 4 hours was weeks ago.”  
“How do you know-”  
“No one drinks that much coffee when they get enough sleep.” She said, crossing her arms sternly as she leaned on the counter. Translation: I know how much coffee you drink when you get enough sleep.  
“I have work to do.” He pointed out.  
“I talked with Minkowski. You're off of work for 5 days unless there's an emergency- commander orders.” She raised an eyebrow at him. “Wanna challenge that?”  
He sighed heavily. “No.”  
“Good man.” She patted his shoulder. “Go say good evening to your boyfriend and go home.”  
Hilbert made a small choking noise. “W-what?”  
Lovelace rolled her eyes. “I was joking.”  
“Oh.” Hilbert shifted from foot to foot uncomfortably. “I should probably go now.”  
“Yeah.”  
Hilbert opened the door and walked out, confused. Eiffel hurried over to him and stopped him before he left.  
“Hey doc, do me a favor would ya?”  
“What?” Hilbert asked.  
“Have some fun for once. And get a full night’s sleep.” he grinned faintly and left to go do something, leaving Hilbert extremely confused as to why everyone was concerned about his sleeping habits all the sudden.  
Hilbert walked up the stairs, down the hallway, said good afternoon to a tired Koudelka, and sat at the city bus stop.  
Have some fun for once. Well then.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> August 29, 2016, is the 6 month anniversary since I got the idea for this child of mine! I'm very excited! Cool reviews (and possible gifts of fan art) are appreciated!


	6. Yay Maria is here

Hilbert closed the door and leaned against it, sighing tiredly.  
He did not go out often for a reason, despite Maria's constant invitation. It was bad enough that there were people and noise and lights, but it was even worse when someone propositioned him. Tonight had been especially tiring, a young woman with multi-hued hair had attempted to get him to go home with her, and to make it worse, her eyes had been just like-  
No.  
He wasn't going to think about that any longer than necessary, which was at all. He couldn't handle it now. Maybe someday, but it wasn't that day yet. Exhausted, he drudges through the living room and pushed open his bedroom door, falling onto his bed.  
\-------------------------  
Warmth settled over Hilbert like a blanket. He smiled faintly at the feeling and opened his eyes. He was lying down on a red and teal picnic blanket in a meadow. He felt at ease. Calm.  
"Did you have a nice nap, doc?" He sat up, startled by the sound of Eiffel's voice. It woke him up, and he began to wonder why he didn't know where he was or how he got there. "Well?" Eiffel asked, waiting for an answer.  
Hilbert turned to face him, greeted by his vibrant green gold eyes. There was something off about them- something not quite right-  
"Yes." He decided to keep that feeling in mind, but to ignore it at the moment.  
"Great." Eiffel smiled crookedly, his dark, rich brown curls spilling over his shoulders, free from its usual hair tie. His ever present glow reminded Hilbert of honey- golden and gentle. "C'mon, there's something I wanna show you."  
Hilbert followed Eiffel, the word wrong, bouncing around in his head. Something was wrong with Eiffel- his eyes too bright, his smile too wide. Eiffel had the most beautiful smile, and it was wide and full of teeth like that, it was softer, smaller.  
He forgot almost completely about that when he saw the view.  
It was fairly high up, and a few yards in front of them it became precarious, and holy cheese he could see a lot from up here. The mountainside had dressed itself in a fresh, bright green and blooms.  
“Amazing, right?” Eiffel leaned against a tree trunk, still smiling that not quite right smile.“Minkowski told me about it. She goes hiking here a lot.”   
Eiffel sat down, leaning forwards and hugging one of his knees to his chest. “Join me?” He asked. Hilbert sat down next to Eiffel. They say in silence for a bit.  
Hilbert looked over at Eiffel. He felt calm, despite Eiffel's strangeness. Happy.  
Like he hadn't felt in... Ever.  
This was a completely new and different happiness, a different kind of adoration and affection.   
It wasn't the kind he had to hide, or one that he knew to be short lived. It wasn't like a hidden trinket.  
\----------------------------------------------  
Hilbert woke up to the sound of an autumn storm. He blinked tiredly, and a tad angrily. Of course it was a dream. Of course it was.  
Close friendships weren't things he had, not in life.  
He was too strange, too harsh, too cold, for anyone to not leave eventually.  
\---------------  
Hilbert stewed in his self loathing for the next 2 days of his five day leave before Maria knocked some sense into him.   
“Alexander.” She started.  
“Maria.” He responded icily.   
“I hate when you get like this, you know.” She sighed. They weren't close- more like that person who you sit next to in class than anything- but she knew exactly what brought this on.  
“Don't we all.”   
“You know that at a lot of your problem is more in your head. You push people away, and you know it.” No response. “What happened this time that started your most recent downward spiral?”  
“I don't know.” A lie met with a cocked eyebrow. “I don't want to talk about it.”  
Maria flopped onto the crappy pull out sofa to give her lower body a break. “Is it that new guy at work? The one that did something stupid and scared the hell out of everyone?”  
Hilbert moved from foot to foot uncomfortably. “Yes. Sort of.”  
“Did he hurt you?”  
“No.”  
“Then why are you- oh.” Maria was hit with the freight train of realization.  
“Oh what?”  
“You're starting to be friends, aren't you?” Hilbert looked slightly ill.  
“Yes. Actually I think we might be?”  
“So what's the problem?”  
“My subconscious is greedy.” The sentence was a mutter.  
“How long has he been on?”  
“A month a half as of last week.” Maria thought about that for a minute. Hilbert had a thick skull when it came to anything social. It took awhile for people to get close to him. It took longer to get trust. Whoever this guy was- Something or other Eiffel- he was an interesting variable.  
She almost never could get a read on Hilbert but for some reason, right now she could. He was scared. Scared of getting burned, just like Icarus did when he fell for Apollo and flew to him.  
“Be greedy.” Maria said, hoping this was the right thing to say. “He's gotten to this point with you; why not let him get closer? I'm not saying you two should start dating or banging- just let him get closer.” Hilbert looked uncertain. “Let yourself get closer.” She added.  
Hilbert looked at her like she had just told him to eat an atomic bomb.  
“Well this was fun.” Maria got up off the crappy sofa, her prosthetic leg making a tiny creak in protest. She really needed to get that fixed, but she liked having a full fridge. “I'll see you later.”  
Little did she know how much that last sentence in her speech would change so much.


	7. Chapter 7

Eiffel sat down heavily, massaging the back of his neck. He eyes were still dull with sleep, and the city bus was too loud for one to take a nap. He was really starting to regret dropping his old job. Sure, with both he’d be tired but at least he’d be able to get his damn car fixed.  
“Need coffee?” Dominik asked from behind the counter.  
“Mmhmm.” Eiffel replied, resting his head on the table he was sitting at. Dominik chuckled, and went about making coffee and other morning duties for his shift. A few minutes later, he put a starbucks cup in front of Eiffel, holding one as well. “We have a starbucks?” Eiffel mumbled.  
“Sorta kinda.”  
Eiffel shrugged sluggishly and cautiously took a sip of his coffee. While mental clarity gradually returned to him, he remembered that today was the end of Hilbert’s forced break from work. He wondered if asking for his address would be out of line- wait, of course that was out of line, he didn’t even have his phone number. Asking for his phone number should come first.  
As Eiffel was considering how to stay in contact with the man he’d been starting to consider his friend, that very friend walked into the door. Hilbert shook the rain off his umbrella and put it in the umbrella basket by the door. There was something markedly different about him- maybe he’d gotten enough sleep for once? It was a good look for him, whatever it was.  
Hilbert took a deep breath as he shrugged off his rain slicker. For him, a confidence boost still wasn’t much confidence. No self sabotage. Or at least, minimal self sabotage. As little as he could manage. Otherwise Maria would probably raid his fridge for the next several years at random intervals. And he’d lose the closest relationship he’d been able to maintain since the capital I Incident that he still wasn’t quite sure how it had formed.  
Speaking- well, thinking- of Eiffel, there he was, sitting with Dominik, drinking coffee out of a starbucks cup. If Fisher were here-  
Hilbert flinched at the unbidden and unwanted thought. He hadn’t thought the names of the old crew while conscious in awhile, had he? Not since-  
Not since the mission were Eiffel had gone missing, the mission that was supposed to be easy. Hilbert felt very ill suddenly. With the thoughts of Fisher and the mission from a few months ago, other bad memories he’d purposefully blocked out somewhat were coming to mind. One of them being his and Eiffel’s first meeting. Dammit, this was a bad idea, him and anyone in a relationship beyond working is bad idea, damn Maria, damn himself for thinking he could do this-  
“Hey.”  
Damn Eiffel.  
He was smiling tiredly, the glow around him lazy and golden in a way that made his eyes even more vibrantly green than usual. Hilbert found himself definitely at least aesthetically appreciative, if nothing else. And there was nothing else, anything else was a bad idea.  
Eiffel was feeling a lot of butterflies in his stomach suddenly. The issue with mental clarity was a certain lack of a lack of inhibition. “So, Hilbert, I was kinda wondering,” he started, stopping both from his own nervousness and from noticing Hilbert’s current facial expression. His expression had hardened since he’d walked into the door and he looked very much like he’d rather not be bothered. Eiffel almost took a step back. “I was wondering if,” Hilbert dropped his gaze, no longer looking at Eiffel. His hand hung limply at his side, still holding his beat up rain slicker. “I was wondering if I could have your phone number?” Hilbert’s head jerked up at that, his eyes wide with shock. Eiffel felt his cheeks heat up. Why did he look like that when he asked for his phone number? Did he think he was being creepy? Wait, what if he did think he was being creepy?  
Hilbert interrupted his current train of thought by grabbing a napkin and pulling a pen out of his pocket, dropping his slicker on the floor in the process. Hilbert was too hurried to worry about that just yet, he had to give Eiffel his number before one of them changed their minds. Using the wall as a writing surface, he scribbled his number onto it. “I do not really use my phone, so I tend to forget it at home, and I keep it on silent so I might not answer.” he warned. Then he handed it to him, folded in half neatly. Eiffel took it from him gingerly, giving Hilbert a worried look. With a nod, Hilbert grabbed his slicker off the floor, hung it by the door, and marched off to go see Minkowski for today’s assignment(s?).  
Eiffel pulled out his phone and entered in Hilbert's number. He paused, considering the contact name, before deciding on one. Dr. Hilbro. Yep, that worked. He set the photo on it as a photo his sister sent him of the garden that her college had.  
Phone number: acquired  
Butterflies in his stomach: still alive and well  
Work day: just beginning.  
\------------------  
Minkowski wasn’t merciful about Hilbert just now coming back to work from a break, even if she had ordered it out of him. She’d assigned him to work the counter, one of Hilbert’s least favorite things. It was only 11am and he felt very done with people, the existence of rude people in particular.  
“So can you do that, shortie?” the man in front of him asked. Hilbert plastered on a fake smile and nodded. “Sorry, didn’t catch that.” he sneered. His friend laughed.  
“Yes.”  
“Yes what, dumbass?”  
Hilbert’s grip on the counter tightened. “Yes, I can sell you two large supreme pizzas.” he was starting to change his stance on pizza from ‘neutral’ to ‘absolute bitter hatred’. Eiffel was working the counter with him, but he was in the kitchen with Dominik currently, so he didn’t have any back up right now, and if he let himself say one thing, it probably wouldn’t end there. More likely it would end outside, with him getting a broken nose.  
“Good, now get your ass over here so I can kiss your pretty face, bitch.” Hilbert reeled back in alarm, his face red.  
“Oh my god!” the man’s friend guffawed. “I told you he was a gay!” Hilbert’s knuckles were white from how hard he was gripping the counter. He heard footsteps behind him. If he didn’t leave the counter right now, he was going to punch one of these jack asses.  
“Hey.” Eifel said as a greeting. He looked as exhausted as Hilbert felt.  
“Do they need help in the kitchen?” Eiffel looked at him and understood.  
“Yeah. Yeah they do, they’re getting behind on things.”  
Hilbert started for the kitchen immediately, mouthing ‘thank you, I am so sorry.’ Eiffel turned to the customers, plastering a fake grin on his face.  
\------------------  
Two hours later, their shift was over and Minkowski and Lovelace took over the counter. As they walked downstairs, Eiffel looked at him strangely.  
“What?” Hilbert asked.  
“Wanna go grab lunch with me?”  
Hilbert did a double take. “You are forgetting I have lab maintenance to do?”  
“Are you forgetting you have a whole hour and a half off for lunch?” Eiffel responded, bumping his shoulder gently. Hilbert looked down at his feet. “Don’t tell me you were going to eat in there.”  
“I usually do.” Hilbert admitted.  
“Well, not today. “ Eiffel decided. “I’m taking you to get something to eat, and you aren’t eating in your underground lair today. And I’m paying.”  
\------------------  
“And that, my friend, is why you do not try to test every single one of Thomas Jefferson’s inventions that you can find at once.”  
Hilbert snorted. “How did you even come up with the idea to that? And why did you think it was a good idea?”  
“I don’t really remember how, and it wasn’t a good idea, it just sounded fun.” Eiffel said and took a sip of his milkshake. “In hindsight, eating mac and cheese, messing with a wheel cipher, and trying to use a revolving door is a really horrible idea, but at the time it was funny. Until I broke my arm.”  
“I can imagine that would make something a lot less fun very fast.” Hilbert grinned. “I mean, unless you were into that.” Eiffel chortled at that, and Hilbert felt something he’d call affection if he wasn’t busy being freaking out about having warm feelings for another human being who was alive and within a mile of him, despite the fact that he was trying very hard not to be.  
Alas, such is the fear of attachment.  
Eiffel’s smile fell. “Are you ok? You haven’t eaten anything the whole time we’ve been here.” Hilbert looked at the food in front of him. He had, in fact eaten one fry, but frankly, that wasn’t enough to be worth correcting Eiffel’s statement, as much as it bothered him.  
“I suppose I haven’t.” Hilbert muttered. He picked up a fry and stared it. Then he bit it in half.  
The mood was briefly quite sour, until Mambo No. 5 started playing inside the restaurant. Everyone immediately looked judgmentally at each other, assuming it was someone’s ringtone. That is until one of the employees behind the counter started laughing, with all of his co-workers giving him a look that could be summed up as ‘Carl. Carl no.’  
Eiffel snickered. “Would Minkowski kill us if we did that?”  
“Most likely. If we got Lovelace to help us, that would probably change.” Hilbert considered. “Then again, she might just murder the two of us and make Lovelace sleep on the sofa for a week.”  
“Damn, I had a good idea involving ‘Never Gonna Give You Up.’”  
Hilbert looked at Eiffel, vaguely confused. “Why would you voluntarily risk her wrath like that?”  
“Cuz it’d be awesome.”  
“I do not think it would be awesome enough to die over. No one enjoys being Rick Rolled, so if you did, you’d probably also have every customer present after you.” Hilbert got down a bite of his sandwich.  
“What makes you think they’d know it was me?” Eiffel asked, stealing one of his fries.  
“Because you would make it obvious, or Minkowski would already be chasing you down the street. Either is highly likely.” Hilbert fiddled with the ring he wore on a chain, popping open the compartment on it and closing it. “Honestly, adrenaline might buy you a few minutes, but Minkowski can break the speed limit in some school zones if she wants to.”  
“15 or 25?” Eiffel asked, feeling a vague sense of dread.  
“15, we had to bail her out once for running somewhere around 17 in one. The police officer was not very understanding about the fact that she was running and not driving,” Hilbert dropped the volume on his voice a bit so he could be sure no one heard him, “ and whoever is in charge of the area of Command that handles that decided it was not worth getting into any legal recourse over so we had to let it drop.” Hilbert angrily ate another fry. “ I wish I could say that was the only time we have had to deal with something like that.”  
“Yikes.” Eiffel winched a little.  
“Yikes is an accurate summation of both the cons of living in Nowhere, Nowhere while trying to conduct investigations on the paranormal and Command’s incompetence to actually be helpful.” Hilbert took another bite of his sandwich.  
“So why haven’t you guys resigned?”  
Hilbert put down his sandwich and swallowed. “No one is particularly fond of the fact that in order to do that, you have to get your memories of working with Command erased.” he took a breath. “If not for that, I would have resigned after the Incident.”  
“The one that made you guys all go Hunger Games on each other?” Eiffel asked, and immediately regretted it.  
“I don’t know what that is, but I’m going to assume you were told about it.” Hilbert looked down at his hands, which were folded neatly in his lap. “I cannot stop thinking about the fact that we never found out if they found whomever did that, or if they might try again, or if they-” his voice caught in his throat. “I’m not too fond of the fact that Command suggesting yoga as a treatment to help me handle the aftermath, or that they completely ignored the fact that Lovelace was messed up over it too simply because she wasn’t there during it either.”  
Eiffel got up out of his seat and considered hugging him, but settled for putting a hand on Hilbert’s shoulder. “I’m sorry.”  
“It was not your fault.” Hilbert took Eiffel’s hand off his shoulder. “I should not have told you all of that, you probably did not want to hear about it.”  
Eiffel really wished he knew whether Hilbert was ok with hugs or not. “I may not have wanted to hear it, but you needed to tell someone.”  
The timer on Hilbert’s watch that indicated they had 15 minutes to get back before their lunch break was over beeped. “We should probably head back, the city bus always takes 6 minutes longer than it says it will.” He stood and wrapped up his sandwich.  
“Hilbert.”  
“Thank you for lunch.” Hilbert put his sandwich in his pocket.  
“You know if you need to talk that we’re here for you, right?”  
Hilbert smiled bitterly. “The problem with that is I have to let my guard my down to let you do that.” He breezed past Eiffel and out the door. Eiffel ran after him.  
“You realize we’re going to the same place, right?” Eiffel asked once he had caught up with Hilbert, who almost at the bus stop. Eiffel wasn’t sure how he’d managed that so fast, given Hilbert’s short legs.  
Hilbert stopped walking, considering. “Actually, I had forgotten.” he shook his head and kept walking. He walked very quickly, it turned out.  
“Look, I get that after what happened, you feel like you can’t trust anyone.” Eiffel tried.”But we can help, hell, at least talk to the resident psychologist, if you don’t do anything else.”  
“Eiffel, I can’t even trust my former commander, how am I supposed to trust someone who I have known for only a few months?” Hilbert was not trying to be an angsty teen, but he was unfortunately fitting the stereotype. (Probably because angsty teens are actually depressed most of the time and the stereotype exists to belittle them.)  
“You trusted me.” Eiffel immediately jumped on that train of thought as they reached the bus stop. “You trusted me and you’ve known me for less time.”  
Hilbert had nothing to say to that. The bus pulled up, and they both climbed on, finding that it was very full and there were only two seats unoccupied. Two seats next to each other. Hilbert wanted to crawl under a rock and die, but his face looked more like he wanted everyone else to crawl under a rock and die. Naturally, no one really gave a fuck. You see weirder shit on the city bus. (Even if if Wolfe wasn’t really a city, it was the closest thing to one for a few hundred miles, so it was commonly referred to as one unofficially. Therefore, city bus.)  
Hilbert took the window seat out of spite. Eiffel resigned himself to having to sit next to the aisle, and having to keep his legs either cramped or awkwardly half shoved under the seat in front of him. They rode the bus silently and awkwardly, Hilbert keeping himself as close to the window as possible and Eiffel giving up on trying to find a way to sit comfortably after a few minutes.  
“If you really don’t trust any of the others, you can still talk to me.” Hilbert rested his forehead against the cool window in defeat.  
“I cannot make any promises.”  
“I’m not asking you to. I’m asking you to consider it.” Eiffel touched his hand gently. “I might not understand- hell, I almost definitely won’t, but I’ll be there for you as much as I can be.”  
Hilbert took in a shuddering breath. “Ok. I will try. Emphasis on the try.”  
Eiffel gripped his hand. “That’s all I’m asking for.” Hilbert relaxed and stopped squishing himself against the window.  
“Do you really not know the Hunger Games?”  
Hilbert laughed, and Eiffel’s heart beat a little faster. It was actual, full on, honest to god laugh.  
“No Eiffel, I don’t know what the Hunger Games is about. Nothing particularly interesting about a book that was about what America probably will become in a century. And from what I’ve heard, movies adaptations are- how would you put it? Shitty?” Hilbert was smiling faintly.  
“Honestly one of the biggest let downs was that they made a lot of characters that were all but explicitly stated to be non-white about as white as snow.” Eiffel rolled his eyes.  
“Really?”  
“Yeah, there was some speculation about whether Rue was black or not. None about Thresh though I think. Probably cuz he was pretty close to the Hollywood stereotype anyway.”  
“Sounds like Hollywood.” Hilbert admitted. “F- a friend I had used to complain about that a lot. He even made me read a book that I cannot remember the title of and then watch the movie. It was a horrible insult to the book, which was actually kind of enjoyable, if not the sort of thing I would usually read.”  
They continued to discuss the crappy shithole that is Hollywood the entire ride, Eiffel occasionally filling Hilbert in on some things, and then some on the way in. eventually, the conversation just devolved into favorite books, due to Hilbert’s limited experience with movies in general.  
Neither noticed Minkowski and Dominik talking with Hera and Minkowski sighing regretfully.  
AN: I almost cried so many times writing this chapter. Help, I’m a glass case of emotion, I want my sons to be happy, and guess what they aren’t???? HAPPY. (also eiffel’s being kind of a dick in canon and I’m kinda mad at him.)


	8. Monster hunting

“I still don't understand why we’re monitoring this factory.” Eiffel grumbled, crossing his arms to try to ward off the night chill. He really hadn't dressed for the weather tonight.  
“Because it's Halloween, the factory is abandoned, this is a teen hangout, and we got a tip about something happening here, Eiffel.” Minkowski explained, somewhat impatient as she went over their equipment for the third time that half hour.  
“But that doesn't mean there's gonna be anything!” Eiffel complained. “Teenagers do stupid ‘piss off ghosts in a creepy place’ all the time on Halloween and nothing happens to them!”  
“Do I have to remind you about the cases increase? About the past dozen we've missed because we didn't take them seriously before your first mission?” Minkowski narrowed her eyes. “We can't dismiss the chance that this is, in fact, something.” She picked up something that looked like the love child of a taser, a grenade launcher, and a rifle and checked the cartridge.   
Eiffel groaned and flopped onto the ground. “I thought paranormal stuff was uncommon.”  
“Apparently, it's not anymore.” Minkowski glanced at him, noting the light reflecting off the ground around his back. “You realize you're lying in a puddle, right?”  
Eiffel groaned and sat up, realizing that the back of his hoodie was soaked with something that didn't look like water. He put a finger in the puddle, and it came away with black liquid clinging to it. “Uh, Minkowski?”  
“What.” She snapped. The damn thing was half charged, again. She she found out who’d been fucking with it while it was charging, there was going to be hell to pay.  
“The puddle I laid down in? It's a puddle of gasoline.” Eiffel made a disgusted face as he realized he'd have to take off his hoodie.   
“So?” Minkowski asked as she made a mental note to get her car checked out by a mechanic.  
“It's a big puddle. No, scratch that, it's a huge ass puddle.” Eiffel took off his hoodie, which left him in his Halloween costume, which was not suited to outdoor weather at this time of year. “Doesn't that seem a bit weird to you?”  
“The only thing that tells me is that I need to get a mechanic to check out my car, ASAP.” Minkowski muttered. This did nothing to soothe Eiffel’s dread, however, and he continued to look at the gas puddle with concern. When he finally looked away, the puddle shivered in relief. It needed to move fast before it got caught.   
Neither of them noticed a large mass of black slime moving towards the abandoned warehouse. Not even Eiffel, who would've found no trace of it on his hoodie or hand if he had checked.  
\--------------------------------  
Hilbert and Lovelace, meanwhile, were scoping out the perimeter of the building.   
“Any readings?” Lovelace asked again.  
Hilbert glared at her. “If I had gotten any I would have said so. So please, stop asking me every two minutes.”  
“Ooo, touchy.” She said sarcastically. “Like you told me about-” she stopped suddenly, squinting at something in the distance.  
“What is it?” Hilbert asked, looking completely away from the scanner he was holding.  
“Nothing. Thought I saw something.” Lovelace muttered and took a bag of candy out of her pocket, popping a jolly rancher in her mouth.  
“...Lovelace.”  
“Yeah?”  
“Were you the one who took all the damn candy?” Hilbert didn't bother hiding the murderous edge in his voice.  
Lovelace froze, not from fear of Hilbert, but from the fact that Hilbert was a fairly rule bound fucker, and he'd probably tell Minkowski. And Minkowski was pissed about all the candy going missing. She scrambled for a good lie and came up with only one.   
“Nah, I bought this earlier today.” She fibbed.   
“You hesitated to answer.” Hilbert squinted at her. The man was part Tibetan Spaniel, she was almost certain of it.   
Before she could challenge him on why she hesitated, Minkowski and Eiffel strode up, Eiffel looking miserable and cold, and Minkowski looking irritated.  
“Hey Minkowski!” Lovelace hurriedly stuffed the candy in her pocket. “Everything set?”  
“Everything except this.” She held up the [REDACTED]. “It's half charged, again.”   
“Damn.” Lovelace said. “Hey, is Hera going to accompanying us this time, or are we putting that off?” She asked.  
“A-accompanying, Lovelac-ce.” Hera announced over the comms.  
“Those of us with a physical body are pairing up and taking one of the levels, and following the 8 per section plan. Hilbert, Eiffel, you're together, you get the ground floor. No funny business.” Minkowski looked at them pointedly, laying a great deal of emphasis on her last sentence, much to Eiffel’s slight confusion and Hilbert's embarrassment. “And because apparently some of us can't be afraid of reasonable things only, me and Lovelace will be taking the scaffolding and catwalks.”  
“Being afraid of heights is perfectly reasonable.” Hilbert muttered. “And I have heard every joke about it correlating to me being short, so don't. You might think you have something new, but trust me, it is not.”  
Eiffel snorted. “Can you wear heels, or is that too much for you, doc?”  
Without missing a beat, Hilbert replied, “Can you sing the itsy bitsy spider, or do you start screaming in mind numbing fear midsong?”   
“...touché.”  
Minkowski cleared her throat. “...as fascinating as watching you two’s lovers spat is, we have a mission to do, so just put a pin in that and come back to it later.” She ordered, not even bothering to try and make it sound like a suggestion.  
Eiffel didn't miss how the comer of Hilbert's mouth twitched at the term ‘lovers spat’. He took note of it, in fact.   
“Eiffel, how good a shot are you with a gun?” Minkowski asked.   
“I can usually hit a soda can up to 150 yards away.” Eiffel replied. “I haven't exactly been using a firearm recently, so I'm probably out of practice.”  
“I don't think that whatever these kids plan on summoning is going to be the size of a soda can, and I'm not even sure if it's possible to be 150 yards away from someone- or something- inside of here.” Minkowski replied, handing him the [REDACTED], which Eiffel struggled with the unexpected weight of for a few seconds. “In the very least, I'm pretty sure you're a better shot than Hilbert, given the fact that you've shot a gun before.”  
Hilbert almost opened his mouth to object to her statement, but thought for a second and decided against it. For all intents and purposes, she was close enough to being correct that it didn't matter that she had gotten whether or not he had shot a gun before this part of his life wrong. Also, he was too tired to challenge her on it. He was too tired to really do so much as try and make an effort to do much by way of speaking, really.   
He hated being this kind of tired.  
Eiffel shrugged and stood still for a few seconds before he walked into the warehouse, Hilbert following silently, eyes intently focused on his scanner’s readout display.  
“Hera, how much do you think you can do here?” Minkowski asked.   
“There-e isn't a-any operational anything in the vic-cinity outside of the comms system-m on all of you, so not much. I can-n do my best to make sure no one interf-feres with your system, and do calculations-s, but other than that, n-nothing.” Hera replied. “Hon-nestly, I'm doubtful I'll be of too much use on this particular mission Command-der.”  
“Even if you aren't, it's better to be safe than sorry.” Minkowski muttered. “Not to mention that you need as much practice for this as possible. Lovelace, you want to take the [REDACTED], or the scanner?”  
“I'll take the [REDACTED], thank you.” Lovelace said chipperly, taking the firearm from Minkowski like it weighed about as much as a cell phone.  
Minkowski sighed and woke up the scanner. “Ready to go monster hunting?”  
Lovelace smiled. “Ready as hell.”  
\------------------------------  
Eiffel leaned against a rusted shelving unit. “This is officially one of the worst Halloweens ever. And that's including the one where I actually got sick from eating too much candy.”  
“Mm.”  
“And the one I spent in drunk tank.”  
“Uh huh.”  
“Testing, testing, 1 2, is Doctor Hilbert in residence or is he frolicking in the meadows of Dissociation Land?” Eiffel looked at Hilbert, who was still focused on the scanner’s read out display.  
“Sure.” Hilbert muttered.  
Eiffel sighed, closing his eyes and lying his head back against the shelves. Not much to be done about Hilbert spacing out really. The timer on his watch groaned, and he stopped leaning on the shelf and poked Hilbert in the ribs. Hilbert looked at him for a second in irritation, then looked back at the readouts.  
“C’mon, we gotta move on now.” He cajoled. Only spend 8 minutes in every 4 square yards section, or as he liked to call it, ‘just as you start to comfortable, you have to move’. Hilbert sighed and they moved on. “Honestly, I'm not even sure what we're looking for.” Eiffel pseudo complained. “A large summoning circle made of the blood of the innocent? Three chairs, a fan, and a large mirror?”  
“What are you rambling about?” Hilbert asked, incredulity clear in his voice. Ah, so that got his attention.  
“Some stuff I saw on the internet.” Eiffel looked at Hilbert. He looked kinda like a mess, and that wasn't just because he was wearing paint splattered overalls. “You didn't really want to be over, did you?”  
“Not especially.” Hilbert admitted. “Parties are not something I typically enjoy.”  
“Then why'd you come?” Eiffel asked, then added, “It's not like Minkowski made it mandatory or anything.”  
“I am… not entirely sure of why myself.” Hilbert's eyes flicked down to the readouts again, checking for any changes. Nothing. This was getting creepy. “Something should have-” he started, and found the breath knocked out of him.  
“Shit, you ok?” Eiffel asked, grabbing his arm and helping him up.   
“I don't think I sprained anything.” Hilbert said simply, and left it at that. His hand still clenched around the scanner. Sadly, it became obvious he was missing something when he realized he could barely distinguish Eiffel from their surroundings. “I am, however, missing my glasses.” Hilbert squinted up at Eiffel.   
“How much do you need them?” Eiffel asked.  
“A lot. I can't see two feet in front of me without them.”   
“Alright.” Eiffel ran a hand through his hair. “Stay next to the shelf. I'll look for your glasses.”  
“It would go faster if-”  
“No, I don't think it would.” Eiffel said pointedly. “Just stay next to the shelf. If I don't find them in three minutes, we'll just have to deal with that I guess.”  
Hilbert huffed and put a hand on the shelf. “Fine.”   
The error in Eiffel's plan, sadly, was that while Hilbert couldn't injure himself, that didn't stop something else from injuring him. This became apparent about 30 seconds later, when Hilbert felt the uncomfortable sensation of something slimy crawling up the hand that he was resting on the shelf. He tried to open his mouth to shout, but found himself incapable of using his vocal chords. That alone would be terrifying enough to make most sentient beings pass out from fear, but he also found himself unable to move.  
Nothing, Hilbert decided, was quite as horrible as not being to move or speak, completely at the mercy of some unknown monster, all while someone who could help you was right in grin of you, completely unaware of your situation. Hilbert tried again to do something, anything, but only found himself silently crying from frustration and fear. This was, undoubtedly, one shitty night.  
Eiffel, meanwhile, was searching for Hilbert's glasses, and finally found that they had skittered under an overturned shelf unit. He groped around underneath for them, still not noticing his friend’s peril. The sentient slime had fully crawled up Hilbert's arm and was spreading up his neck and down his chest, wrapping around both and making increasingly hard for the man to breathe, something that was already very hard for him without something else compressing his chest.  
Even though Hilbert could not voluntarily move his body to do anything, the slime could not stop him from passing out and collapsing to the ground once he had finally reached the point where the fear, pain, and lack of oxygen was far too much for him. This made a loud clamour, and alerted Eiffel to Hilbert's predicament.  
“WHAT THE FUCK!” Eiffel screeched in horror. He had retrieved the glasses just before the noise alerted him, and dropped them in his pocket before fumbling with the [REDACTED], unsure whether or not to shoot, as it could kill Hilbert, but not doing anything surely would.  
Before Eiffel could decide on an appropriate course of action, he heard a loud clanging of footsteps on the catwalk above him, telling him that either his yelling or Hera, or perhaps, both, had alerted them as well.  
“The hell is going on here?” Minkowski yelled.  
“You tell me!” Eiffel yelled back. Lovelace aimed with her [REDACTED], lining up for a shot at the thing that was currently asphyxiating Hilbert, who couldn't even properly gasp for breath.  
With a loud noise that seemed more at home in either a sci fi movie or a steampunk one, a shot of what looked like a small ball of light blue electricity hit the slime, making it shudder and recoil from Hilbert's body, sliding away on the tiled floor. Eiffel felt a surge of rage for the thing, and shot it as well. And shot it again. And again.   
Five minutes later, they had lost count of all the times even Eiffel had shot the slime monster. Hilbert was beginning to regain consciousness when Eiffel finally stopped, but only because the power died on the [REDACTED]. Minkowski and Lovelace had joined them on the ground by that time, and once Eiffel stopped firing, Minkowski gathered the goo into a containment bag, then dropped the bag in a box. Then she put a large clamp around the box that vaguely resembled a spider.  
Eiffel dropped the [REDACTED], still full of unresolved rage for the thing. He walked over to Hilbert and wrapped his arms around him tightly, making Hilbert wince in pain. He understood and relaxed his grip so that the hug was still firm, but not enough to hurt Hilbert. Hilbert stood awkwardly for a second before returning the hug, uncertain of what to do about the fact that Eiffel was silently crying on his shoulder.  
“We're done here.” Minkowski said gently.  
Eiffel stopped hugging Hilbert, but kept a hand on his shoulder. “Do you need me to take you home?” He asked, his voice rough.  
“I-” Hilbert started, then derailed that train of thought. “Yes.”  
Minkowski and Lovelace watched all of this, feeling like they were intruding on something intimate. Hera could not watch, as she could not see what was happening, but all the same felt very awkward.  
The four humans walked to Minkowski’s car, slime monster and new horrible memories in tow. The drive into town passed in a haze, everything seeming gray and unreal. Minkowski dropped off the two men in front of Hilbert's apartment complex, then drove off with Lovelace, who decided to sleep in the now empty back seat, to retrieve Dominik from his drunken nap in the HQ medical bay and to put the slime monster in cold storage.  
Eiffel walked with Hilbert, feeling something in chest splintered from almost seeing the smaller man die. Hilbert unlocked the front door with a shaking hand, walking up the stairway to the third floor, Eiffel still holding his other hand. They stopped in front of Hilbert's door, unsure how to proceed.   
“The bus will not be safe this late at night.” Hilbert blurted. “And I don't think walking is a good idea either, so maybe you should-” he stopped. “Maybe you should stay here for the night.”   
“Yeah.” Eiffel looked at Hilbert and felt an overwhelming desire to kiss the smaller man. It burned through the splinters in his chest, through the rage and grief he'd felt, and made him just want to do something to confirm that Hilbert was alive and ok, and alive. “Yeah, that sounds like it's the best course of action.”  
Hilbert sighed in relief and opened the door. He flicked in the lamp next to the door and toed off his shoes. Eiffel did the same, looking around the small space curiously. It was a single room that contained a kitchenette, a pull out sofa, and two large bookshelves that bursted with books and various other things. The windowsill in the room was cluttered with small plants, and a few pieces of colorful glass. Hilbert walked over to the sofa and attempted to put it to use, only to have it creak in protest and one side of it collapse.  
Hilbert cursed in Russian, damning the sofa to hell for all eternity. “I'll take the floor.” He said immediately, knowing his back and ribs would hate everything about him tomorrow.  
“No, I'll take the floor, your ribs must be killing you.” Eiffel protested. Hilbert sighed. Eiffel pulled off his hoodie, which he had retrieved from Minkowski’s car, and folded into the crappiest makeshift pillow ever.  
“You are not sleeping on the fucking floor.” Hilbert said.  
“Unless you're suggesting we sleep in the same bed, yeah, I am.” Hilbert blushed.  
“Fine. You aren't sleeping on the floor, so I guess that's what we're doing. Just don't be weird.” Hilbert turned and opened the door to his bedroom.   
Eiffel followed silently.  
Hilbert's bedroom was about half the size of the previous room, with a large bookshelf shoved in a corner and a desk shoved in the other corner on that wall. Hilbert sat down on the bed, in did the straps on his overalls, and started to pull his shirt off before pausing.  
“Eiffel, turn around.” He said, and continued to pull his shirt off. Eiffel complied, choosing to look at the plants on this room’s window sill. These were succulents, unlike the other room, which had what looked like herbs. A small garment resembling a tank top flew past his vision into a laundry basket. A switch flipped in Eiffel's head.  
“You didn't tell me that you're-”  
“Trans?” Hilbert interrupted.   
“Yeah.” Eiffel shuffled his feet.  
“It's on my file.” Hilbert said, pulling on his shirt, trying to be nonchalant but feeling his heartbeat quicken in a bad way.  
“I only glanced at the file once, Hilbert.”  
“Does it upset you?”   
“No.” Eiffel said quickly. That would never upset him, that didn't make sense, why did Hilbert even think that.  
“Then it doesn't really matter right now.” Hilbert pulled off his overalls and rolled over on the bed, pulling the covers up over him. Eiffel turned around and put his hoodie on the chair in front of the desk. He laid down on the bed, unsure of how ok with this Hilbert was. “Get under the covers, you'll get cold otherwise.”   
Eiffel pulled back the covers and slid under them. The bed didn't exactly leave them much room to be apart, and he still wanted to make sure Hilbert was alive, but that would be weird, friends didn't hug each other while sleeping in the same bed without it being a subconscious thing, right?  
The next morning found Hilbert embraced by Eiffel, who had in fact, wound up hugging him in his sleep.  
Hilbert would be lying if he said that he hadn't simply sighed in content and gone back to sleep upon waking like that.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry that I haven't updated in so long! I believe this is my longest chapter yet, and possibly my best, so at least the wait was probably worth it :)

  

Eiffel awoke with his arms wrapped around Hilbert, who was snoring peacefully. The weak amber light of the early morning autumn sun shone through the window, making Hilbert’s gray streaks shine beautifully. Eiffel smiled at him, enjoying this small, fragile moment of calm and quiet. 

Then he started to panic, realizing that he had Hilbert wrapped in his arms, and he kinda had his legs entangled with his too, and Hilbert had very specifically told him not to be weird, and this was  _ definitely _ at least a _ little _ weird. Eiffel let go of Hilbert, and tried to slide out of bed and away from him, when Hilbert rolled over right on top of his chest and right arm.

Eiffel resigned himself to being stuck like this until Hilbert woke up. At least he was warm. Hilbert mumbled something in his sleep, and Eiffel tucked some of hair that had gotten into his face behind his ear. It had probably gotten loose in the night when his hair tie became undone. Hilbert had nice hair. Soft, wavy, and long. It was a deep shade of bluish-black, and the light gray strands contrasted beautifully with it. His hand lingered a little before resting on his chest. Hilbert's breath puffed against his fingers comfortingly. After the events of last night, it was an extraordinarily soothing feeling. 

 Last night. 

 Fucking hell, last night.

Eiffel pulled Hilbert a little closer to him. He could’ve died. He could’ve died and Eiffel had been right in front of him and noticed until it was too goddamn late. It almost  _ had _ been too late. If Hilbert hadn't fallen down, it would have been too late, and all because he hadn’t been paying attention.

 Hilbert made a non-snoring noise in his sleep. Eiffel realized that in pulling Hilbert a little closer to him, his nails were digging into Hilbert's arm. That was decidedly uncomfortable, and Hilbert was already in pain from his ribs. And now he was starting to wake up because of it. Eiffel let go of his shoulder and put his arm behind his head, trying to be nonchalant. 

  Hilbert blinked his eyes open tiredly. “Mornin’.” Eiffel said, trying to be a Cool Cat™. 

 “Hmm.” Hilbert gave as a reply, rubbing the sleep from his eyes as he sat up. Eiffel slid out of the bed, free from having to worry about waking Hilbert.

 “So…” he started, looking for something to say. “Breakfast?”

 “Mm.” Hilbert hummed, clambering out of bed himself, wincing a little from his ribs. He walked out of the room, stopping by the bathroom to grab some ibuprofen from the cabinet. He closed the bathroom door behind him and made his way to the kitchen area, where Eiffel waited, unsure of what to do. Hilbert grabbed a stool from the corner, setting it down in front of the middle of the set of cabinets. He stepped on it and opened the cabinet and grabbed cereal from the second shelf. He dropped it on the counter below him, and stepped down from the stool. He grabbed two bowls from the lower cabinet, and shut the cabinet door. 

 Eiffel grabbed a bowl. “Milk?”

 “Do not have any.” Hilbert replied, that being his first words of the day, as he poured cereal into his bowl. He set the box down, and pulled open a drawer so he could grab a spoon.

 “Well, shit.” Eiffel muttered, grabbing the box of cereal and pouring himself some. Hilbert gave him an unreadable look, and sat at the table pushed off to the side of the kitchen area. It was small, barely big enough for two people to sit at comfortably. Hilbert ate quietly. Eiffel grabbed a spoon, closed the drawer, sat down across from Hilbert, and began to eat as well. They both continued in this way silently for a few minutes. 

 “So.” Eiffel began, once more finding the silence unbearable. “You've been wincing a lot.” 

 Hilbert paused, setting his spoon down so the end was resting on the table as he spoke, twirling it in his fingers. “Yes. I have damaged ribs. Your point?” 

 “You gonna do something about it…?” Eiffel ventured, trying to tread carefully. 

 Hilbert's nose scrunched a little as his eyes flicked up to look at Eiffel. “Yes. I am going to handle it myself.”

 “...what about a hospital?” Eiffel asked.

 “Too expensive.” Hilbert replied curtly. “Even with my health insurance, I probably still would not be able to afford the bill. Besides, I can handle this myself.”

 Eiffel thought for a second, damning cation, and tapping his fingers on the table as a thought formed in his half awake mind. 

 “Do not-” Hilbert said quickly, grabbing Eiffel's hand, then paused looking at his and Eiffel's hands, and let go just as quickly. “Do not suggest paying for this for me. It is too much.” He looked down at the table. 

_ I don't know you. I don't want to owe you. I just can't.  _ Were all words that Eiffel found that could be laced in that last sentence, and he wasn't quite sure which one hurt most.

 “Hilbert-” Eiffel started.

 “Shut up.” Hilbert interrupted, as sharp and precise as a scalpel. “Shut up and eat your cereal.”

 “Shutting up.” Eiffel muttered.  He looked down at his cereal, suddenly not feeling quite so hungry anymore.

* * *

 

 Hilbert stepped out of the front door to his apartment building, locking it behind him. “You really can't find the bus stop on your own?” He was  _ not _ awake enough for this.

 “It was dark out last night!” Eiffel protested. “Also, I wasn't paying any attention to where we were going whatsoever.”

 “Great. And I am bad at giving directions.” Hilbert muttered. 

 “Why isn't there a bus stop closer to your place? I mean, it's a bunch of apartments, there  _ should _ be a bus stop close by.”

 “Eiffel, ‘my place’ is an old house that's been loosely modified into apartments, where only 5 groups of people live, plus the landlady.” Hilbert started walking down the steps. “It is not worth building a new bus stop. Besides, it is only a 17 minute walk.” Hilbert said as he stepped down from the stoop.

 “17 minutes is still pretty long.” Eiffel muttered sulkily.

 “Are you going to complain the whole time?” Hilbert asked incredulously, shoving his hands into his pockets.

 “Maybeeee.”

 Hilbert rolled his eyes. 

 “So…” Eiffel looked over at Hilbert. “Are you a hundred percent sure you can handle that on your own?”

 “Eiffel.” Hilbert growled. “I will be fine. Stop asking about it.” 

 “How can you be sure? How do you know it won't get worse? What if-”

 “What if you shut up.” Hilbert glared at him. “I can handle this. At the most, my ribs are cracked. Unless it starts hurting more, I do not need another doctor, because, in case you forgot, I am a doctor.”

 “I just-” Eiffel started, and sighed. “I want to be sure you'll be ok.”  _ Not to mention that I think that's a little illegal.  _ He thought.

 “I will be.” Hilbert muttered. “Trust me.”

 They walked silently, the wet crunch of leaves and twigs from rain that had apparently happened as they slept and the faint chirp of birds being the only noise around them. Eiffel turned to look at Hilbert several times as they trudged on in silence, only to see him glaring at the ground ahead of him, hands shoved deep inside his pockets, single mindedly kicking up leaves that came up in bunches and watching the wind struggle to carry them off. 

 He wanted to ask. He wanted to ask why Hilbert couldn't afford the hospital, why he lived in an apartment with only three rooms total, why he wouldn't let him  _ help,  _ but he knew that if he asked, Hilbert would not reply. And he probably wouldn't speak to Eiffel for a long time. 

 He definitely didn't want that.

 What did he want? What did he want from Hilbert?

 Nope. Rewind, back away from that train of thought, it’s next stop is “You’re absolutely fucked”, and I don’t wanna go there. If I do, I might fuck up, he’ll hate me, and then I’ll crawl under my covers and die there and Blessie will eat my corpse, because no one is refilling their food bowl and they doesn’t have thumbs, so she can’t do it herself. 

 Ick. Definitely don’t want to be eaten by my cat because I died from embarrassment like a 13 year old. Eiffel stomped on a few leaves to see how loud he could make them crunch.

 “Do I snore?” Hilbert suddenly asked. 

 “Yeah.” Eiffel replied without thinking. “It’s cute though.”

 Hilbert stopped, turned and gave him a quizzical look. “Cute?”

 Fuck. Fuccccccccccccccccccccccccccck. Fuck, fuckity fucking fuck. “I meant- I mean it’s not a bad snore! It’s not unpleasant to hear or anything like that!” Eiffel said, trying to make this less implicating.

 Hilbert gave Eiffel an incredulous look and muttered something under his breath that Eiffel didn’t catch as he started walking again. 

 “What?” Eiffel asked, following suit. 

 “There is no such thing as a pleasant snore.” Hilbert said louder. “Snores, by nature of snoring, are unpleasant.” Hilbert paused for a second. “That is something I never thought I would think, let alone say.”

 “Why?” 

 Hilbert gave him another incredulous look, this one kind of like the ¬___¬ face. “Gosh, I have no idea. Maybe because I do not typically discuss whether something is unpleasant or not, especially, as I mentioned before, something that is universally unpleasant? It's not something worth talking about.”

 “That's fair.” Eiffel said. “What are going to do till you gotta get to work?”

 “Sleep.” Hilbert said, completely and utterly deadpan. “I am going to pass out until noon.”

 Eiffel threw his head back and laughed. Hilbert's heart beat faster, and not due to his exhaustion, or the ibuprofen wearing off. The sun shone golden, and it wove in Eiffel's hair and mingled with his preexisting glow, making him look like a painstakingly done painting of a long forgotten legend. He was glorious to see, and it made something in Hilbert's chest  _ ache  _ in a dull, everlasting way, and it wasn't the damaged ribs talking. 

 Eiffel suddenly stopped. “Oh my god.” His mouth fell open. 

 Hilbert's brows furrowed as he wondered what he was looking at. Then he realized not everyone was used to the bus stop.

 It had the same frame as thousands of other spartan bus stops, in hundreds of other towns and cities. That was the only similarity, however. The bus stop itself was a plethora of colors and textures from an old high school’s art project. It had twisted metal and thick cables and bus seat pleather, all salvaged from junkyards and garages. All of it was collected together in a very strange structure. It was like looking at a tree turned shrub, with every flowering species most could think of grafted onto it. It was painted messily, but not badly, and it felt like a folk painting had been made 3D.

 “Oh. My. God.” Eiffel repeated. “Holy fuck.” Hilbert looked on him in amusement. “Who made this?”

 “I think it was some public school art project.” Hilbert said. “I do not really know. It's been here since before I moved here.”

 “And how-how long is that?” Eiffel's gaze was fixed on a the bus stop in awe.

 “Roughly three years.” Hilbert said, mouth twitching in humor. “This is really astounding to you, huh?”

 “Well…” Eiffel's head tilted to the side. “I mean I've seen creative public structures but… this. This is something else.”

 “I guess.” Hilbert said as he sat down. “To me it is normal.”

 “I guess three years does that.” Eiffel sighed. He sat down next to Hilbert. “So…”

 “You despise being quiet.”

 Eiffel jerked. “What makes you say that?”

 “You keep starting conversations.” Hilbert looked at him, head tilted. “Every time it gets quiet and someone is not talking, and no one has told you not to talk, you go “so…” and start talking.”

 “Sorry-” Eiffel started.

 “No, it is fine. _ I think _ . Just… please do not expect me to answer all the time.” Hilbert looked down at his shoes.

 “Alright.” Eiffel said, leaning back.

 And so they sat in silence, waiting for the bus. The air around them began to fill with noises other than the almost idyllic sounds of birds and wet leaves underfoot. A few cars drove by, no doubt people commuting to some larger city or town for work. The noise from a nearby apartment complex started up as people began to open their doors and shuffle off to do something or another. One person even joined them at the bus stop, shuffling there oddly, and looking at Eiffel with stern gray eyes. 

 Just another Tuesday morning.

 They waited for about another five minutes, and the stranger was starting to make Eiffel uncomfortable with how often he found them sternly glaring at him, when the bus pulled up. 

 “That's my ride then.” Eiffel said as he got up. “I'll see you at work, I hope.” He said to Hilbert, smiling at him as he did. 

 “See you at work.” Hilbert replied, and turned to walk off. Eiffel turned as well, and walked towards the bus, hesitating for a second to watch Hilbert walk away. As he walked, he quickly turned quickly to wave at Eiffel-

 And he crashed to the ground on the still wet sidewalk.

 Hilbert hissed in pain as he felt  knees scrape, and bit back a scream as he felt his ankle twist unnaturally beneath him and his ribs press oddly under his skin. He tried to push himself up, and did scream. He’d cut his hand on something in the grass by the sidewalk.

 Eiffel stood still, one foot on the bottom step of the bus, too shocked to process this or act for a split second. Then he sprinted, full tilt, to where Hilbert lay on the ground, and knelt next to him. He grabbed onto Hilbert's arms, pulling him up so that he was sitting. “Are you ok?” He asked worriedly. He cupped Hilbert's jaw, checking his face for major injuries as Hilbert leaned onto him for support.

 Hilbert took a second to get his breath. “No. No, I- my-” he stopped. “Ankle.”

 Eiffel put a hand on his shoulder and held Hilbert to his chest and he moved his hand from his jaw and turned to look at Hilbert's ankle. The left one was fine, but the right one…. Well. Ankles aren't supposed to bend that way.

 “I'm getting you to the hospital.” Eiffel said. 

 “Not arguing there.” Hilbert groaned into Eiffel's shirt.

 Eiffel dug through his pocket for his phone, cradling Hilbert to his chest as he did. “Ok. Ok. 911.” He fished out his phone and dialed quickly. “Yes, hello, my friend just slipped and fell, he’s already got damaged ribs, and I think his ankle’s broken.” He smoothed Hilbert's hair back from his face, tucking it behind his ear. “Douglas Eiffel. 202-555-0133. Blackduck road I think? Gee, what do you think, pal?” Pause. “The answer is yes, because that apparently wasn't obvious. Thank you.” He smiled at Hilbert, trying to be comforting. “There's an ambulance on the way. And before you even think the word ‘money’, I'm paying.”

 “Eiffel-” Hilbert ground out.

 “No. I don't know what's up with your finances, but I'm not leaving you out to dry. I have savings. A good bit of savings actually. I'm paying your stupid hospital bills.” Eiffel sat down at last. “You can thank me later. Or yell at me. Whichever works for you.”

“Bastard.” Hilbert got out, still very much in pain that made want to scream and sob.

 “Yeah, yeah.” Eiffel muttered as he brushed the tears that were welling up in Hilbert's eyes away with his thumb. “I suck.”

 Hilbert groaned again, burying his face into Eiffel's shirt. “No, this sucks. You? You are just annoying as all fucking hell.” 

 “One of my many useless talents.” Eiffel said as Hilbert started to feel like he was drifting away down a lazy current. “Hey. You stay awake now, Doc.” 

 Hilbert blinked rapidly. “Trying. It hurts.”

 “I know you might not want to talk, but I think we'll need to do that for a bit.” Eiffel said. “Wanna hear a bad joke?” He asked brightly.

 “No.”

 “Why are ghosts so bad at lying?”

 “Please stop.”

 “Because you can see right through them!”

 “Why.” Hilbert simply said. 

 “Aw c’mon, that was funny.” Eiffel said, grinning.

 “No it was not. The only thing funny about it is that you think it is funny. That is the real joke here.” Hilbert muttered. “Ha. Ha. Ha.” He added for effect.

“Wanna hear another one?”

“No. In fact, tell me another bad joke, and when I get the first chance, I will replace random songs on your phone with “Never Gonna Give You Up”, in the exact order to make you as annoyed as possible.” Hilbert threatened.

 “Damn.” Eiffel was taken slightly aback by that. “You really don't like bad jokes.”

 “Not in the slightest.” Hilbert's vision started waning in and out of focus again. “Ugh. How long has it been?”

 Eiffel checked his watch. “About four minutes. No, five.” He looked down at Hilbert, concern twisting his features. Or maybe that was the excruciating pain shooting through him and making things look blurry... “Can you hold on for another seven?”

 “Maybe.” 

 This was about the time when Eiffel noticed a dark smear on Hilbert’s gray and blue jacket, right across his ribs, and felt his heart almost stop in terror as he thought about ribs breaking and bending and piercing skin and organs and veins and people dying on sidewalks before help gets there. “Jesus Christ, are you  _ bleeding _ ?”

 Hilbert nodded. “Cut my hand. When I tried to get up on my own.”

 Eiffel let himself breathe a little. “Ok. That’s not good, but it’s better than what I thought it was.”

 “Aww.” Hilbert tilted his head back to look up at Eiffel, smiling a little. “Are you worried about me?” It was phrased like it was supposed to be a question, but it felt more like Hilbert was stating it as a fact, the same as the way he would about H 2 O being the exact same thing as water.

 “Duh shit.” Was Eiffel’s reply. It was all he could think of to say at the sight of that small, pained, twisted smile. It set his heart racing and blood rushing and face burning and it made him feel hot and cold and had a helluva lot of emotions mixing dangerously inside him. 

 “Time?” Hilbert asked.

 Eiffel checked his phone. “Just another five minutes. You can do five minutes.”

 “Well, considering time is a nonphysical entity-”

 “nO.” Eiffel interrupted. Hilbert laughed, then groaned in pain. “Ok, you need to try not to move your ribs.”

 Hilbert glared at him. “Oh really?” He said sarcastically. “I had no idea.” 

 Eiffel rolled his eyes. “Just trying to help.”

 “Hmm.” Hilbert dropped his head to his chest. “You will be waiting here a bit after the ambulance gets me.”

 “Yeah.” Eiffel sighed, remembering that no ambulance allowed non family members to ride with, and some didn't let  _ anyone _ at all ride with.

 “You will also be late to work.” 

 “Minkowski will understand. I'm protecting a fellow… um…” Eiffel realized he didn't actually know what they all were, officially. Team members? Comrades? Crew mates? Agents? Agents fit best. “...agent while they're injured.” 

 “My hero.” Hilbert snarked. 

 The minutes dragged on in silence. Eiffel noticed a few more dark stains on Hilbert's jacket that were clearly blood, and wondered just how bad he'd cut his hand. Was it all the way through his hand- no, no, he'd still have whatever cut him stuck in it if he had. It was probably a long slash. Probably not even that deep. Nothing to worry about. Something you'd get from cutting an apple.

 Something manageable.

 Eventually the EMTs got there, and it only took a few minutes for them to get going with their patient to the ER.

 There was a lot that happened in those few minutes. Hilbert was put on a stretcher and they were both asked a lot of questions and someone wrapped up Hilbert's bloody hand and Eiffel felt like he was being blown around by a tornado. Hilbert was loaded into the ambulance, waving at Eiffel with his injured hand, that already had soaked the bandages crimson. And with that, the EMTs got in, closed the door, and drove off.

 Eiffel stood there, waiting on the curb, as they drove off, watching until he couldn't see them anymore. And then he sat down at the strange bus stop, waiting for the next bus.


End file.
